Sasha's Secret

by Cathy Cassidy

  ‘Once Ked invited us to Devon, I had no chance of coming clean,’ I plough on. ‘Marley made it clear that this is our big chance – can you imagine his reaction if I’d said I wasn’t coming? If I’d said I was quitting the band? He’d never have forgiven me. I went along with it, hoping I could carry it off and that maybe I’d learn to love it like the others seem to … but that’s not what’s happened.’

  I dab at my eyes with a soggy tissue. I hate a whole bunch of strangers seeing my gritty red eyes and blotchy face almost as much as I hate them seeing the mess that I am inside.

  ‘I love singing,’ I confess. ‘But performing in front of people? Hate it. I can’t eat, I feel sick, I can’t breathe properly … it takes every bit of my strength and courage to make myself do it. Everyone says it gets easier with time, but it doesn’t for me … I’ve been in knots every day, trying so hard because I didn’t want to let everyone down. I know they were working out how to tell me I wasn’t up to scratch … I’ve just saved them the trouble.’

  ‘You don’t know that,’ Jake argues.

  ‘I do,’ I say. ‘It’s taken me a while to suss that I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not, but I got there in the end.’

  I notice Summer studying me carefully. ‘I think you’re brave,’ she says quietly. ‘Not everyone is so honest with themselves about what they can and can’t do, and not everyone has the guts to admit it. You figured out that you didn’t want this, and you had the courage to say so … I wish I’d been that sussed. It took me a while.’

  ‘Summer wanted to be a principal dancer,’ Coco chips in. ‘But she hated the pressure. She’s training to be a dance teacher now. She still gets to do the thing she loves, only with a lot less stress.’

  Summer smiles at me and I see the sadness behind her smile. I know that she understands and that gives me strength.

  ‘You really don’t want to be in the Lost & Found?’ Jake puzzles.

  ‘I really, really don’t. Not as the lead singer anyway.’

  ‘So what is your dream then?’ Coco wants to know.

  ‘My dream?’ I consider. ‘Something more behind the scenes, like Jake – I’d love to be a make-up artist, work in TV or film maybe …’

  Skye’s face lights up. ‘I want to study costume design – I’ve been researching uni courses,’ she tells me. ‘There are loads of courses in make-up for film and TV, or for fashion and media, special effects even … it’s definitely possible!’

  ‘Most things are possible,’ Charlotte says, clearing away the soup dishes. ‘We can talk about this again tomorrow, put you in touch with some people perhaps. They shot a film at Kitnor a couple of years ago, and we got quite friendly with the producer and the crew. And last year we were in a documentary about our chocolate business. We might have some contacts who could give you work experience.’

  I nod, hopeful now. Ria and Fitz offered the same thing … There is a different path if I’m brave enough to follow it.

  ‘We’re happy to book you both a train ticket home,’ Paddy offers. ‘Unless you want Sheddie to drive you, of course, or Sasha’s parents want to come and fetch you …’

  Jake shrugs. ‘Maybe Sheddie can drive, or maybe we’ll take the tickets. If we do, we’ll pay you back!’

  ‘Obviously,’ I say. ‘We’re really grateful for all your help!’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Charlotte says, cutting slices of fudge cake. ‘I know you’re upset, of course you are, but Summer’s right – you’ve been brave, really.’

  I sigh. ‘It’s such a mess, though. I wish I’d had the courage to say something sooner, then I wouldn’t have dropped everyone in it quite so badly. I’ve wrecked it for everyone!’

  Coco waves her spoon at me. ‘Don’t be a drama queen about it,’ she says. ‘OK, you’ve quit – that’s not going to make you popular with some of the band. But don’t kid yourself – they’ll get a new lead singer. From what Jake’s told us, they’re talented and ambitious. They’re not going to give up just because you’ve dropped out, are they?’

  ‘You think?’ I ask, hope unfurling inside me.

  ‘I know,’ Coco says.

  Paddy makes hot chocolate and we sit round the big scrubbed-pine kitchen table for another hour or so, Skye talking about her new A levels, Summer about her work as trainee teacher at a residential ballet school, Coco about the campaigns she’s running to make her school a plastic-free zone and one that only uses sustainable palm oil. ‘We’ve raised three hundred pounds to save the orangutans,’ she tells me. ‘I wrote to the paper about it!’

  The more I get to know them, the more I like Jake’s half-sisters. They’re sparky and cool and very kind, and I wonder how Jake’s dad could have betrayed Charlotte and her girls for a brief affair with Jake’s mum. According to Jake, he then abandoned everyone and moved to Australia, and Jake says they’re better off without him because Charlotte’s got Paddy now, as well as a thriving artisan chocolate business, and Jake’s mum has Sheddie. Everyone’s happy.

  I think about my parents, working through their troubles and coming out the other side … perhaps. Surely if they’ve weathered the storms once, they can do it again? Tonight is Tuesday, when Mum works until seven and Dad cooks his signature sausage and mash dinner, served with glasses of Irn-Bru … I wish I’d been there to share it.

  I’m not sure how I got to the point where I felt I had to hide my feelings from my parents, pretend to be something I’m not. It seems crazy right now, because I know without a doubt that even if they stop loving each other they will always love me, whether I am the lead singer of a famous band or not.

  ‘Families come in all shapes and sizes,’ Jake tells me, grinning. ‘Mine’s a real jigsaw, but I wouldn’t be without them!’

  Later Charlotte shows me to the turret bedroom that belongs to Honey, her eldest daughter, who is currently in London. ‘Sleep well,’ she says. ‘Things will look brighter in the morning!’

  I plug my mobile in to charge, slip between the crisp, cool sheets and fall into a dreamless sleep.

  By morning the rain has stopped and the smell of cooked breakfast drifts through the house. I still feel tired, as well as a little shivery and achy, but I’m thrilled to be waking up in an actual turret. Coco sticks her head round the bedroom door to tell me the sausages are veggie ones, because going meat-free is better for the planet, and can I hurry up and get dressed because she wants to show me something.

  I shower and dress and do my make-up as fast as I can, and head downstairs in perfect time for veggie sausages, scrambled egg and beans. I think the stress of yesterday is catching up with me, though, because I zone out a couple of times over breakfast. I don’t know if anyone but Jake notices.

  ‘I’m going to give you the guided tour,’ Coco announces once we’re done. ‘Jake too, obviously! Is he your boyfriend?’

  ‘Sort of,’ Jake says, taking my hand, and it’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in ages.

  ‘I’ve got a sort-of boyfriend too,’ Coco declares, leading us out of the kitchen. ‘Lawrie. He lives in the village – Jake’s met him. So this is the paddock where Lawrie’s sister’s pony, Caramel, lives. You can give her a carrot if you like – hold your hand flat … that’s it! Did Jake tell you how I saved her life once?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so …’

  ‘These are the chocolate workshops,’ Coco continues. ‘Mum and Paddy work here full-time now, and Lawrie’s mum and a couple of part-timers from the village. We have a chocolate festival every summer – get Jake to bring you down next year! You could bring the band, once they’ve got a new lead singer – it’d be great to have some live music!’

  ‘I …’

  ‘These are the chickens – rescued battery hens, of course – and the ducks are just over here. There’s a pond with goldfish just by the workshops, and this is Humbug, my pet sheep.’

  The barrel-shaped creature I spotted last night comes thundering over and starts trotting at our heels along with Fre
d the dog. I can’t help laughing.

  Tanglewood is just as magical as it seemed last night, and as Coco leads us through the little wooden gate at the end of the garden and down a rickety flight of steps, my eyes open wide. We’re right beside the sea and the steps lead down to a small sandy beach.

  ‘Knew you’d love it,’ Jake says, as we watch the waves roll in, each one tipped in silver by the rising sun that has painted the skyline with washes of pale pink and gold.

  ‘It’s the loveliest place I’ve ever seen,’ I tell him, and I mean it.

  ‘We have a Tanglewood tradition,’ Coco is saying. ‘You can make a wish – just stick your hands in the water and shut your eyes. Don’t tell anyone what you wish for. It works … some of the time, anyway!’

  I kick off my shoes, peel off my socks and walk into the water. It’s ice-cold, the kind of cold that makes you cry out, but still, I plunge my hands in. What do I wish for? A second chance, a chance to be true to myself, to get things right.

  By the time we start back up the rickety steps my teeth are chattering, and I’m somehow shivery and too hot both at the same time. My head feels fuzzy and I zone out halfway up, but when I come back to myself Jake has an arm round my waist, holding me safe.

  ‘OK?’ he checks.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘I feel a bit weird … sort of achy and hot and cold. Maybe it’s because of getting soaked in the storm last night.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Jake says, frowning.

  As we walk back through the trees and across the grass to the house, I’m aware of Coco chatting on, talking about deforestation and whether or not Paddy and Charlotte will be putting solar panels on the roof of the chocolate workshop, but I can’t seem to follow it.

  My body seems slow and heavy. As I step off the grass and on to the gravel driveway, I hear the sound of a car engine and turn to see a familiar white van chugging up towards the house. Sheddie.

  I turn to Jake, dismayed. ‘I don’t understand … what’s he doing here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jake says. ‘Maybe Paddy and Charlotte called his mobile. Maybe … I don’t know!’

  The van stops at an angle and three figures get out – Sheddie grinning, Romy, her face filled with relief, waving, and Matt, lips twisted into a mean, smirky smile, camera in hand.

  ‘Found you!’ he says. ‘Is it true you’ve quit the band, Sasha?’

  The world tilts and blurs. My knees give way and I’m falling, my cheek and palms stinging as they hit the gravel. Darkness bleeds into the edges of my vision like spilled ink, and everything goes black.

  325 likes

  SashaSometimes Change of plan …

  littlejen First like!

  LexiiieLooks Where are you? Please get in touch!

  HappiDaze Sasha please call! So worried!

  OllieK What’s up?

  PetraB Has something happened?

  Yorkie_Joe Lexie and Happi are from the band – something’s happened to Sasha!

  26

  After

  There are so many ways to disappear. You can hide behind a curtain and pretend it’s a game, or vanish into your own mind a dozen times a day and tell yourself you’re travelling through time or experimenting with astrophysics. You can run away into the night because you don’t have the guts to tell your friends you’re not the person they thought you were, or you can get ill and let a fever swallow you up, drifting in and out of it for days.

  I’d never had flu before, the kind that has you spiking a temperature one minute and shivering the next, the kind that makes your bones ache and turns your throat to sandpaper. It wasn’t nice, but I was sure it wasn’t the kind of thing you had to be in hospital for. I didn’t understand why I was stuck on a trolley in a room where the lights were too bright, where doctors in white coats asked strange questions and nurses kept a chart of my pulse, my blood pressure, my temperature.

  I didn’t understand why Jake and Romy and Sheddie were sitting by my trolley bed looking scared, or why Mum and Dad were suddenly there, hugging me through the thin hospital blanket and holding my hand as the doctors ran a test that involved electrodes and wires being stuck all over my scalp.

  ‘Just leave her!’ my mum sobbed halfway through, when a barrage of bright, pulsing strobe lights flashed right into my eyes. ‘This is cruel! Please stop!’

  Maybe it was just a bad dream, because nobody told me what the outcome was. In the end, we were allowed to go and I slept most of the way home to Millford in the back of Dad’s car, a blanket tucked round me.

  I stayed in bed for three days, achy and feverish, my mind fuzzy and drifting.

  On the fourth day I am much better. It’s Saturday and Mum is back at work. Dad too, because he has a couple of jobs to finish that had overrun because of his emergency dash south to fetch me. I shower and wash my hair and change into clean leggings and a slouchy top. I eat some soup at a kitchen table dominated by a huge bouquet of white roses sent by Ked. There’s a basket of fruit from Sheddie and Jake too, a new library book by my favourite teen author dropped off by Romy and a fancy box of artisan chocolate truffles from Charlotte and Paddy at Tanglewood.

  There’s a pile of unopened post on the kitchen counter, including a padded envelope addressed to me that may or may not contain the mobile I left at Tanglewood. I’m not exactly in a hurry to see it, or to read the messages and texts it holds, but I open the padded envelope anyway and plug the phone and charger into the wall.

  Sifting through the post, I find a get-well card from the band, hand-drawn by Sami and featuring loads of tiny sketches of our time in Devon. Everyone has signed it and scribbled little messages – maybe they’re not as mad at me as I think?

  The rest of the post is boring brown-envelope stuff – bills and circulars, a letter from the hospital, a rolled-up newspaper tied with string and seemingly hand-delivered. It looks like a copy of today’s Daily Scoop, one of the trashier tabloids, not a paper we usually get. Boring.

  I think of Romy, of Marley and Lexie, of Sami, Happi, Bex, Lee, George and Dylan … and Jake, of course. I owe them an apology, an explanation. I need to know if we can still be friends.

  I take a deep breath and pick up my phone. There are hundreds of texts, messages and missed calls, dating from Tuesday night right up to now … Saturday. My hand shakes as I click on the latest ones, but I force myself to read.

  Don’t forget we’re having a Halloween party at the old railway carriage. Meeting midday. See you there – counting on you to make me look scary! Lee x

  Hope you’re feeling better. Why aren’t you answering your messages? Did you get the library book? Romy x

  Are you coming to the Halloween thing? Don’t be late! We have cake! If you’re not well enough, let us know and we’ll come to you. Miss you loads. Lexie xox

  I know you’re ill but call me when you can, Sasha. We can work this out. Seriously, we can’t do without you. Marley x

  Your mum and dad said you’re not well enough to see me, but I’ll keep calling and messaging until you’re better – just say the word and I’ll be round with my wheelbarrow. Miss you millions. Jake x

  My friends aren’t mad at me … they’re just worried! Relief floods through me. And then I see a message from Matt.

  Fame at last. Page five of today’s Daily Scoop – hope you like it! All publicity is good publicity, right? M

  I blink. The Daily Scoop? I glance at the rolled-up newspaper on the kitchen counter, untie the string and flick through to page five with shaking hands. There – underneath a piece about a middle-aged soap star seen out clubbing with a man fifteen years her junior – are two pictures of me.

  A full-colour picture of me with mascara running down my face in rivulets, looking upset and angry. And another of me lying on the gravel, face cut, completely out of it, a thin trail of spittle sliding out of my mouth and down my cheek.

  My heart is thumping and I feel cold all over, and this time it has nothing to do with the flu. My fingers shake as I read
the headline: ‘Wilder’s Teen Band Shatters – Singer’s Dark Secret Derails A Promising Future’.

  ‘No. Way …’ I whisper, but my voice has withered to a sad, sick croak, and I’m battling nausea as I force myself to read on.

  Rumours of drink, drugs or serious illness were rife this week as the teen singer of up-and-coming band the Lost & Found, tipped for the top by pop legend Ked Wilder, quit the band and subsequently collapsed not far from the star’s Devon home. A source close to the band told us that fourteen-year-old Sasha Kaminski had been struggling with the pressure as the band recorded their first single at the private studios of their famous mentor.

  ‘She didn’t feel she belonged in the band,’ our source revealed. ‘She wasn’t coping. I don’t know if the collapse was down to drink, drugs or illness, but I do know that it was never a good idea for ten vulnerable young teens to stay unsupervised with an ageing pop star for a week. Wilder pushed them way too hard.’

  There’s a smaller picture of the whole band together and a decades-old stock photo of Ked looking rakish and holding a bottle of beer.

  I take in a ragged breath. My whole body is shaking with the injustice of it all, the lies. Matt Brennan took these photos. He almost certainly posted a copy of the Scoop through our door, making sure I’d see it. He has blackened my name, betrayed my friends, thrown Ked’s kindness back in his face. I blink away tears. If my running away hasn’t hurt the Lost & Found enough, this will finish the job for sure.

  A rush of anger pushes my self-pity aside. In my bedroom I brush my hair till it shines, lean into the mirror to paint perfect cat’s-eye flicks, haul out the little suitcase of make-up and face paints. I promised to see my friends at Halloween … this time I will not let them down.

  My cheek and hands are still grazed and sore from falling on the gravel at Tanglewood. I could take a moment to camouflage the damage, but the idea seems crazy – I’ll wear my pain with pride.

  I grab my jacket, pick up the suitcase and head for Greystones. It’s not a long walk, but I’m still weak after the flu and I need every bit of courage and strength I have to get there. The moment I see the old railway carriage, my heart aches for everything I’m losing, but I walk right up to it and knock on the door.